


Draco Malfoy and the Rejected Hand

by Likea_boss9987



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likea_boss9987/pseuds/Likea_boss9987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco always got what he wanted. Well, except one thing that would in turn cause him a lot of future disappointment. This is a Draco Malfoy rendition of the Harry Potter series. Warning: Lots of obsessing over Potter. Will not be epilogue complaint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Malfoy Heir

**Author's Note:**

> Though this is mainly from Draco's Point of View, some chapters might be from other Slytherin characters Point of View.

_Chapter 1—The Malfoy Heir_

Born to two loving parents with as much money and status as the Royal Family in the muggle world (maybe more so even), Draco Malfoy never wanted for anything. Well, nothing materialistic anyway. His parents liked to spoil him with whatever suited his desire and it took not more than a “I want that—” from him. Of course there were some things that Draco could not receive but he thought that was reasonable. An example would be siblings. His mother could not conceive another and thus he would be a single child.

But that did not matter. After all, a proper pureblood family should only have one heir and one heir only. That was the reason that the public embraced anyway. Draco knew his parents wanted another child to spoil, to cuddle, and to love. He was young but at least understood it. It was something akin to how he felt when he knew he would not have much companionship from children his age, not ‘til Father deemed him ready to represent the family without being an embarrassment (oh the perils of being too young—making a fool out of yourself was always a danger).

 In the end these things did not matter to Draco. _It’s okay; there are upsides to these. I wouldn’t have to share the family fortune when I come of age. Father and Mother can only shower their love on me. There would be no little one to steal attention away so this is perfectly reasonable…_ These were excuses nonetheless, even if it soothed the young Malfoy heir on a particularly boring day.

There were of course many other things that young Draco could not have or do. One of them, which Draco found was definitely viable, was to stay away, stay clear of all muggles.

 _Remember Draco, this is all for your own good. Muggles are dangerous; they are ignorant and jealous of people like us, people with magic. They call us freaks, unnatural, and they will end our way of life if we allowed them too like what that dense fool Dumbledore is doing. He thinks we can live in harmony. Ha! Muggles want nothing more than to tear our civilization down brick from brick. The same with Mudbloods. They think they are special, they think that they have the best of both worlds, they think they are above us. No, they are vermin, not much better than the muggles they spawn from. Pushing their way into our society thinking they have a right to be there as well as shove their ideals down our throats. They try to change us. Disgusting._ His father would always say, this is a constant lesson; one that Draco took to heart. He was superior, his blood purer and it was his duty to uphold these values, these morals.

Once, when his parents brought him out to Diagon Alley to celebrate his 7th Birthday, Draco spotted a family of redheads; a ragtag bunch really. However, there was a child that looked his age there and he truly was starved of companionship. That was the only reason he could give when he dashed away from his parents (ignoring their calls of “Draco!”) towards this family. When he reached them (and they were all staring at him now; all nine pairs of eyes), he immediately introduced himself to the smallest male. “Good afternoon, my name is—” But before he could continue, his parents were behind him and both had an arm on one of his shoulders, a scowl on his father’s face, a look of arrogance on his mother’s.

“Good day, _Arthur._ I see you are buying school things for your… children.” Lucius sneered at one of the cauldrons that were in one of the older children’s hand. “Or rather picking them out from the trash,” he muttered, though loud enough for the oldest male redhead to hear. The man—Arthur—gritted his teeth at his father’s statement but did not say a word, instead taking the option of veering his family away and continued shopping.

After they were out of hearing distance, Lucius squatted down to reach his son’s height (which was tall for his age), all the while grimacing at the thought of dirt on his fine silk robes. “Draco,” Lucius started, staring straight into young Draco’s eyes, “I know you did not understand that what you did was wrong so you would not be punished. _However_ , you are to remember to never associate yourself with the likes of them. The Weasleys, that family we just met, _never_ go to them. They are below you even though their blood is a little purer than that of Mudbloods. They are perhaps even worse. They betray us; they betray their blood, as they encourage the integration of Mudbloods into our society. They are blood traitors, filthy and dirty, and they pay for it with their lack of wealth. Remember this Draco, for I would not let it go if you pull a stunt like this again. What if we had lost you?” Now Lucius’ voice was softer, warmer. “ Don’t scare us like that again.”

They walked away then, the three Malfoys, ignoring the people going about around them, with an air of superiority. As they continued celebrating his birthday, Draco couldn’t help but reflect on the lesson he just learnt as well as the number of children the family had. _How can they have so many while I’m stuck with none?_

The year Draco was seen as ready to build friendships (or create connections) was when he was 10. That year, he was introduced to the other children from pureblood families that were his age. Pansy Parkinson the young mistress of the Prestigious House of Parkinson, Gregory Goyle of the Great House of Goyle, Vincent Crabbe of the Crafty house of Crabbe… and the list went on and on. Draco had been looking forward to this day only to find that it was completely dull! This was _not_ how he pictured it. He expected laughter, jokes, a brief reprieve from having to wear his icy Malfoy mask but no. It was another occasion that the mask was required. They were all formal, they _had to be,_ lest they be an embarrassment and Draco found himself disliking it immensely. However, Draco did what he came here to do and managed to get some standard allies for the coming school year. Crabbe and Goyle though, they were burly and would be useful for the young Malfoy heir’s protection, Draco _was_ important after all. Very much so in fact. Thus, they were to be his bodyguards.

And so, this was young Draco Malfoy’s life before the owl landed on top of his bowl of cereal, a letter with a purple wax seal clasped in its leg.


	2. Summer before School

_Chapter 2— Summer before School_

This year, Draco’s new ‘friends’ were invited to attend his first ever birthday party (Draco did not count the rest that were celebrated solely with his parents). Really, it was not as exciting as Draco thought it would be. He should have known it was going to be like the introductory gathering the year before. He should not have gotten his hopes up only to have them shattered. But stiff congratulations and boring birthdays aside, at least there was _some_ good that came out of it. He had more presents this year for one. The second was that now Draco knew that he wouldn’t be very happy with the friends that his parents chose for him. Of course he was not _blaming_ them, no, after all these people _were_ acceptable for a Malfoy heir. However, Draco wanted friends that would chat with him freely, friends who cared for him as a person, friends who were not chosen by his parents. And what Draco wanted he would get right? After all this _was_ a reasonable request.

This train of thought lead Draco to think of his childhood friend Harry Potter. Okay maybe Harry wasn’t his real friend; they haven’t even met yet, but loneliness took its toll and Draco had grown up with many brilliant stories about Harry Potter, of how he defeated the Dark Lord when he was one. Draco deemed him worthy enough to be his friend, even if his blood was a little dirty (a fact that Lucius liked to stress whenever he heard Narcissa tell the tale to Draco) and made him into his best friend since he was 5. He recalled how Harry was the one he would always tell his secrets to, share jokes with and played with.

Oh how Draco wished for the school year to start so that he could meet the real Harry Potter. Draco has imagined the scene playing out for the past 6 years. They would meet. They would talk. They would become best friends. They would both get into Slytherin (only the greatest house in Hogwarts). On the first night, Harry would be scared and home sick and who would be there to hold and comfort him? Draco of course! And if Harry gets bothered by his star-struck fans who would help him? Draco that’s who (with some help from Crabbe and Goyle)!

_Knock knock. Knock knock._

Draco was brought out of his reverie by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” he yelled.

Narcissa Malfoy entered her son’s room and gave Draco a slight smile. She walked to his wide four-poster bed and plopped down beside him. Suddenly, she reached out and pulled the young Malfoy heir into a tight hug.

“Mother!” Draco yelped in surprise, his mother has hugged him before— she was a very affectionate person to those she loved and considered family after all— however, he’s never been hugged so suddenly before.

“Oh my Dragon, you’re growing up so fast. In a couple of weeks time you’re be of to Hogwarts. I can’t believe it.” His mother stammered, tears starting to form in her eyes.

Draco did not know what to do; his mother has never been so emotional before! He patted her back slowly, hesitantly and whispered, “ Don’t cry Mother. I’m growing up but that’s a good thing right? Going to Hogwarts isn’t a big change,” Well it was to him but it was probably not a good idea to mention that at the current moment. “And I’ll write back home every week. It would be like I never left really.”

After hearing her son’s gentle words, Narcissa pulled away, her face flushed, seemingly embarrassed that she had broken down, even if it was in front of her only son. Goodness, she had to keep herself together. 

“Anyway, I came here to tell you that we will be getting your school stuff tomorrow so remember to bring your list, okay?” She said. Draco nodded, mind already wandering to the possibilities of tomorrow. _Oh my goodness, I’ll be getting my very own wand tomorrow!_ Excitement coursed through his veins. Yup, he definitely wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.

The next day saw the Malfoy family at Diagon Alley, ready for a day of purchasing school goods. Ready except for one Malfoy heir. Draco, though looked as he always did, was so _sleepy._ He did not catch much sleep last night and was suffering the consequences today. Constantly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Draco took a huge yawn. Thankfully for him, his parents took pity on him and sent him to _Madam Malkin’s Robes of All Occasions_ to get his robes fitted while they went to get his books.

Draco was nearly half asleep when he noticed that there was a person next to him having their robes fitted as well. The person was a young boy with unruly black hair and funny looking circular glasses. He was wearing baggy clothes, which looked like they were going to slip right off his slim frame. But what captivated Draco most about this boy were his eyes. Great Merlin they were so green! _So beautiful…_ Draco thought in his half-dazed state. The young blond decided that yes, he definitely wanted this person as his friend. The boy looked rather nervous and Draco knew that he would have to be the one to initiate a conversation for any friendship to blossom.

“Hullo,” Draco said, starting to feel quite nervous himself. He looked at the boy once again. He looked hopelessly lost in _Madam Malkin’s_ Shop even though he was just having robes fitted. He was being fitted for Hogwarts robes Draco was sure but he looked so young and vulnerable that he could have passed off as a 9-year-old! So he asked, “Hogwarts too?”

“Yes,” said the boy.

 _Oh no,_ Draco thought. _This will go nowhere if he keeps being so afraid. Perhaps if I lightened the mood with a joke?_

Draco stood straighter, trying to look prouder as well as to get rid of all signs of drowsiness.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” Draco began, already half lying as it was. He really hope his mother wasn’t looking at wands, after all he wanted to choose his own. His voice sounded off to himself. _Oh Merlin I should have slept earlier last night._

The dark-haired boy just stood there, still looking like he would run away at any given moment. _Okay, let’s see if we can find a common interest. But what—of course!_

“Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms.” Draco continued, a smile quirking at his lips. He knew fully well that he already had brooms at home and that he was not allowed to bring it yet. But the boy did not know and this was the perfect opportunity to impress him as well as insert a joke or two.

“I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

The boy suddenly frowned, leaving Draco to wonder whether he caught the joke or not. _Oh but he is still not answering…_

“Have _you_ got your own broom?” Draco inquired, once again thinking about the short boy’s clothing. _I don’t think he does._

“No,” the boy answered, yet _again_ a one-syllable answer.

Draco was getting more and more irritated by the second. Couldn’t the boy see that he was trying to be friends? _Looks like I’ve got to take it up a notch._

“ _I_ do— Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?” _Please say Slytherin. Please say Slytherin._

“No,” the green-eyed boy said, his frown deepening.

Draco was now at his wits end, trying to make the boy see that he would make a great friend but failing miserably. So, he tried encouragement.

“Well, no one really know until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been— imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave wouldn’t you?” Mentally patting himself on the back for not only managing to slip in subtle encouragement but a small joke as well, he waited for the boy’s answer. Though Draco really _might_ leave if he was sorted in Hufflepuff. He shivered in mild disgust at the thought.

“Mmm,” said the boy and now Draco was at the verge of pulling his hair out. _It’s not working! I need more material._

He looked out the window, praying to Merlin for inspiration, when he saw the largest man ever. _Perfect._

“I say, look at that man!” Draco exclaimed suddenly, and nodded his head towards the front window.

“That’s Hagrid,” said the boy, a small smile making its way up his face, “he works at Hogwarts.” Draco became more and more excited. _That_ was not one-syllable!

“Oh,” Draco said, feeling desperate to show off his knowledge and keep the boy’s attention, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?” Draco quipped, his expression hopeful.

“He’s the gamekeeper,” said the boy, his smile disappearing. This made Draco’s heart clench a little painfully. _What did he do wrong now?_

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of _savage_ – lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed.” Draco recited his father’s words, hoping to get the smile back into place.

“I think he’s brilliant,” the boy said coldly and Draco felt his blood freeze. _What did that savage do to make the boy think so highly of him?_ Jealousy made Draco frustrated.

“ _Do_ you?” Draco asked with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?” A tiny part of Draco was hoping that the giant oaf had kidnapped the boy so that he could swoop in and be the savior. That had the extra bonus of sending the man into Azkaban.

“They’re dead,” said the boy shortly, his voice laced with sorrow.

Draco could tell that he did not want to talk about it and so decided to skip it with a quick “Oh, sorry.”

But then, Draco had another thought. What if this small boy was a Mudblood? Then he would be disobeying his father.

For confirmation, Draco asked, “ But they were _our_ kind, weren’t they?”Crossing his fingers beneath the long sleeves of his newly fitted robes, Draco sincerely hoped the answer was yes.

“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.”

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

Expressing his opinion was no problem at all, what was making Draco anxious was the answer. However, before the boy could answer, Madam Malkin said he was done and he hopped down the footstool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose.” Draco said, wishing that he did not ask for more than the standard three robes required. He really wanted to continue talking to him and be his friend in the end. _Too bad, but at least I’ll see him at Hogwarts._

That thought managed to brighten him up and he continued the day looking at brooms, eating ice cream, getting a wand from _Ollivanders (Hawthorn wood, unicorn hair, 10 inches)_ as well as getting potions ingredients (his favourite, but mother would not let him brew without Uncle Severus’ help), all the while thinking about a boy with brilliant emerald green eyes. 

 


	3. Hogwarts Express

**First Year**

_Chapter 3—Hogwarts Express_

Draco Malfoy was excited. Terribly, terribly excited. And an excited Malfoy was not a good one. Draco was all but bouncing off the walls in his excitement. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy looked at their hyperactive son, twin expressions of exasperation on their faces. But inwardly, they were beaming with pride and joy. Their son was going to attend Hogwarts.

Draco, whilst his parents were watching him bounce uncontrollably, was thinking about many things at once. First on his agenda was to find the green-eyed boy who captured his attention one month ago and befriend him. Second was to find Harry Potter and befriend him too. They could be great together, Draco mused, getting more excited at the very prospect. Then they would all be in Slytherin and usher in a new era of greatness for the Snake House. While Draco was daydreaming and making fantasies in his mind, his parents were thinking of either pushing Draco into the train or asking him to get on at a louder volume. _Goodness, at this rate Draco wouldn’t even make it to school!_ Lucius thought amusedly. 

Finally managing to get Draco’s attention, his parents said their farewells (“Remember your promise to write young man.”) before sending him off.

Boarding the Hogwarts Express, Draco was quickly intercepted by a buzzing Pansy and lead to a compartment where all his friends from the introductory gathering resided. In there were Millicent Bulstrode, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and of course Crabbe and Goyle. Draco briefly wondered where Daphne Greengrass was; after all, he was betrothed to her sister (the Greengrass family had been trying to make connections with the Malfoy family for _years_ ), before brushing off the thought. She was probably in another compartment; this one would have been cramped if another person joined them.

“Oh darling! Just sit down and relax.” Parkinson suggested, after seeing how tensely Draco held himself. But Draco didn’t agree with her sentiment. He wanted to find a certain green-eyed boy as well as to find his soon to be best friend.

Suddenly, they heard a voice squeal excitedly from outside their compartment door, followed by, “Harry Potter’s on the train! He’s in compartment 13B! Oh my gosh! Do you think he’ll give me his autograph? Or—”

Draco did not bother hearing the rest, instead grabbing on to Crabbe and Goyle and dragged them to the aforementioned compartment, his pulse racing. He was _finally_ going to meet him, befriend him, goodness it would be like returning to your oldest best friend! And once that was over he could find the boy from _Madam Malkin’s_. They would make a perfect trio, Draco was sure.

Then, they arrived at their destination. 13B. Salazar, Draco had no problem making friends before, why did he feel so anxious? He has never been superstitious either but the bronze-plated number 13 was looking quite intimidating now. The young Malfoy heir had a strong feeling that this meeting would turn out badly. He reached out hesitantly to slide the compartment door open. 

Draco sneered.

_What am I doing, feeling so anxious? I’m a Malfoy for crying out loud. People should be anxious to meet me, not the other way around._

Finally composing himself, Draco slid the door open to reveal— the boy from _Madam Malkin’s?!_

Sitting opposite him was a gangly ginger boy, his face splayed with freckles and a table piled with sweet treats was between them. They looked to be in an engrossing conversation about Quidditch. Draco’s face adopted a sour expression. _So he’s able to hold a decent conversation with this redhead but not with me?_

He quickly willed the sour expression away (that was not the best face to make friends with) and said, “Is it true? They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in these compartment.” He looked directly into Harry’s eyes. “So it’s you then?”

“Yes,” said Harry and darted his eyes quickly from Crabbe to Goyle and back again. Draco wished that Harry would pay attention to _him_. After all, he was more important.

“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” Draco introduced carelessly, gesturing from one to the other. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco then heard a slight cough from the ginger and he just _knew_ he was trying to hide a snigger. Indignantly, he turned to properly face him. He recognized him almost immediately as the child he tried to befriend at the age of 7 before his father enlightened him about their inferior status. Nice to know his father was correct; the redhead was obviously not worth his time.

Weasley. The name resounded in his brain, eliciting a slight shudder of disgust from the blond.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford.”

_There now Harry’s enlightened too and can make an informed decision. Goodness, Harry almost made a huge mistake if he befriended that Weasley!_

Draco turned back to the dark-haired boy.

“You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than other’s Potter,” quickly reverting into the formal speech all pureblood children were taught. He almost slipped up and called him Harry. First names were only reserved for people who knew each other well and even though Draco thought he knew Harry from his imagination, he clearly did not know the real one.

“You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

Draco held out his hand to shake Harry’s. _And now he’ll take my hand and we’ll be on our to becoming great friends._

But Harry didn’t take it.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” Harry said in an icy tone.

_No. No. No. This was not the way this was supposed to go. No. No. No._

The mantra continued in Draco’s mind, over and over again and Draco felt blood rush up to his face. He couldn’t comprehend it, he just couldn’t. All his life, all his life he got everything he wanted that were within reason. This—having Harry for a friend was completely reasonable. But he didn’t accept it.

Draco felt as if his world was crashing down as rejection crashed down on him and brought him back to reality.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. Rejection stung, it stung so badly, especially from the person that had been his best friend (even though it was in his mind) for years. He wanted to make Harry as hurt as he was currently feeling.

“Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and Hagrid and it’ll rub off on you.”

_There. I hope that stung._

Both H—Potter _(he hurt you, he doesn’t deserve it)_ and Weasley stood up. Weasley turned such as unsightly red that you could not even see where his hair ended and his face.

“Say that again,” Weasley said menacingly.

Draco didn’t feel threatened though; he bet he was stronger than the Weasley even though he might have been an inch or two shorter, plus he had Crabbe and Goyle.

His signature sneer was on his face in a second, “Oh you’re going to fight us, are you?”

“Unless you get out now,” said H— _Damn it!_ Potter bravely, though his nervous expression said otherwise.

Draco knew it would be wise to leave, he _still_ stupidly wanted Harry for a friend and he knew that staying would make the chasm between them wider. But the rejection still twanged at his heart and his instinct told him to _hurt._

“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.” Of course that was a lie since he had been too excited about the prospect of finally meeting Harry to buy anything in the first place but there was no way he was going to tell _him_ that. 

Goyle reached out for the Chocolate Frogs next to the Weasel – Weasley leapt forward _, probably wants to play Harry’s Hero,_ but before Weasley even touched him, he suddenly let out a horrible yelp.

 A disgusting large rat with matted fur was hanging off Gregory’s finger and he kept swinging it around, trying to get it off. Draco didn’t mind animals too much but he drew the line with that filthy creature so he backed out off the door, Vincent on his tail.

And as Gregory ran out too— his fingers throbbing terribly— and slammed the door, Draco couldn’t help but think that it was a metaphor for a future no longer accessible to him.

A future without Harry Potter in his life.

                                                                                                     


	4. Sorting Hat and Slytherin

**First Year**

_Chapter 4—Sorting Hat and Slytherin_

The sting of rejection has finally faded and pure unadulterated fury took its place.  _How dare he—how dare he—how dare he! He's not even worth it! What was I thinking? He's—he's a filthy mudblood that's what he is. Not worth my time. I'm superior he's inferior. Not worth it—_

After his rant session though, Draco felt rather empty. He ignored the chatterings of his friends and instead chose to sit there sulking. Draco didn't understand it.  _Why would he reject me? What did I do wrong? Maybe if I offered again?_

No. Draco didn't think he could handle another rejection, especially not from  _him._  Now it looks like the tables are turned. He felt extremely vulnerable. He felt as if a soft blast of wind could knock him over without issue. It seemed that H—Potter held power over him. And that just would not do.

Malfoys were always supposed to be superior, the ones that held the power.  _Malfoys do not to cry_ , his father's words echoed in his brain. His father had told him that when he had fallen from his broom and broken his arm when he was six. He had wiped away the tears and quickly sent for the family healer to help Draco before lecturing him though. That was the point in time that Draco realized his father saw him first and foremost as  _Draco_ —his son—rather than just the Malfoy heir. It was one of his favourite memories despite the fact that it was laced with pain and a disgusting aftertaste. Skele-Gro really  _did not_  taste good. Draco's lips quirked upwards slightly at the memory.

This was the only thing that prevented him from bawling and instead, helped him maintain his cold façade.

Not long after, Draco felt the train start to slow down and hopped up from his seat. His stomach was grumbling. He had spent his entire time on the train grieving over the rejection and had forgotten to get something to eat.  _Another thing to blame Potter for,_  Draco thought disdainfully.

He left the compartment in a hurry, leaving his luggage in it— he didn't need to bring it along—and was the first one out the door and onto the dim platform, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. People were pushing and shoving from behind and he smirked to himself.  _It's a good thing I had the foresight to come out first._  He hoped Potter was stuck inside the crowd being pushed around like a ragdoll.  _He wouldn't have been if he had just accepted my hand._

Okay that sounding a bit petulant. And petulance was not becoming of a Malfoy.

The air was cold and Draco was grateful that his mother had placed a Warming Charm on his robes. There was then a lamp bobbing over the heads of the students and Draco saw that it was  _Hagrid_  the half-breed fool.

Resentment flowed through Draco veins.  _You're part of the reason why Harry refused me._

The young blond looked away from the hairy oaf and looked at his feet instead.

The journey from the station to the castle passed like a blur and before he knew it, Draco heard three loud, resounding knocks before the door swung open to reveal a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes.  _McGonagall,_ Draco thought as he matched her appearance to the description of professors that his father had given him. She was a stern woman, supposedly unbiased and Draco knew that even with his father's influence, she was probably not someone he wanted to cross.

She lead the first years into the Entrance Hall and they followed her to a small empty chamber off the hall. The First years were nervous and if Draco was honest with himself, he knew he was too.

She gave the introduction speech—Draco knew it has not changed for many years, from what his parents told him—of how they were to be sorted (Ya-da Ya-da Ya-da) before leaving the chamber.

Draco then turned to his friends behind him, Crabbe and Goyle were at his sides, and asked in his most arrogant tone, "You all will be in Slytherin, am I right?"

They all nodded their heads eagerly. No one wanted to displease a Malfoy.

"Good," said Draco, and he started thinking about sleeping arrangements. There were to be two people sharing each Slytherin dorm and Draco was deciding which one of the boys would be good enough to share his sleeping quarters.

Of course he did know which boy he would prefer to stay with but there wasn't even a guarantee he would be in the same House as Draco. Especially after daringly refusing a Malfoy's hand, Potter might just end up in Gryffindor.

So instead of trying to grasp onto the tiniest of hopes that Harry might be joining Slytherin, Draco decided that of all the currently available boys, Zabini might be the best option. Or at least he seemed to be the  _cleanest_ option. Draco didn't think he could stand living with someone that would make his room a pigsty.

Suddenly, Draco was brought out of his thoughts by a bunch of screaming. He looked up and saw nothing worth screaming about. Twenty ghosts or so had just entered the chamber. Draco rolled his eyes.  _You would think they'd never met a ghost before._ Draco had met one before at one of the now abandoned Malfoy properties. Abandoned because the ghost of Nicholas Malfoy had started getting more and more annoying. Turns out you can go crazy even in ghost form. Nine hundred years doesn't help out your mental state much it seems.

A fat ghost then started chatting with the other students, encouraging them to go to  _Hufflepuff_ of all houses. Really.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall was back. The ghosts disappeared into the Great Hall one by one, leaving the first years to their anxiety about the Sorting.

"Now, form a line and follow me," Professor McGonagall instructed.

Draco went to the front of the line, Crabbe standing behind him, and the First Years were brought to a pair of double doors that lead into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall looked exactly like the photos that his parents showed him. It hasn't changed a bit since his parent's attended Hogwarts. Draco supposed it was nice and impressive to those who have never been to the Manor at least. Draco's eyes darted to the Slytherin tables.  _Ah, that is to be mine._

Draco knew he was expected to rule over Slytherin; it was his rightful place as the Malfoy heir, just like how his father did before. Looking at all the Slytherins, Draco felt a little smug.  _Let's show Potter what he's missing out on._

When he looked away and turned his attention back to Professor McGonagall, she had silently placed a four-legged stool in front of him. She then pulled out a pointed hat. It was really unsightly; patched and dirty. Draco wouldn't have let it touch his head in normal circumstances. But of course this wasn't normal circumstance. This was the Sorting Hat. And it was going to put him into Slytherin.

_But really,_  Draco thought,  _we're wizards. Shouldn't we be able to make the hat less repulsive?_

There was complete silence for a moment, before the hat twitched, opened his 'mouth' and began to sing:

  
_(1)O_ _h you may not think me pretty,_  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  


  
_You might belong in Gryffindor,_   
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_   
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_   
_Set Gryffindors apart;_   
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_   
_Where they are just and loyal,_   
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_   
_And unafraid of toil;_   
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_   
_if you've a ready mind,_   
_Where those of wit and learning,_   
_Will always find their kind;_   
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_   
_You'll make your real friends,_   
_Those cunning folks use any means_   
_To achieve their ends._   


  
_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_   
_And don't get in a flap!_   
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_   
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_   


The whole hall started applauding when it was over. The hat bowed to all four tables before becoming still once again.

Professor McGonagall then stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said, "Abbott, Hannah!"

A blushing girl with blonde pigtails started towards the hat, put it on, which looked ridiculous on her, and planted herself onto the stool.

Draco nudged Crabbe to get his attention before whispering, "I bet she's a Hufflepuff."

He sniggered when the hat did in fact shout, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

And so this new game of 'Guess the House?' continued between Draco and Vincent. Draco was put out whenever he got one wrong and was bored when Crabbe and Goyle were sorted before him (Slytherin of course), putting an end to it, when finally his name was called. He swaggered forward, showing the school how important he was, and it seemed the hat sensed his distaste at the idea of having it on his perfect hair for it had barely touched his head before it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco went to the Slytherin table, a pleased grin on his face.  _Everything else seemed to be going according to plan._  And he turned to look at Harry for the first time since the rejection. _But I wanted that one especially. Please put him in Slytherin._

A bunch of other names came after this and Draco continued the game of guessing with his friends until—

"Potter, Harry!"

Now Draco couldn't even guess what house Potter might get put in. Though he knew perfectly well which house  _he_  wished Potter would be put in.

Whispers broke out all around the hall at Harry's name, just like in the train, and everyone craned their necks hoping for a better look at their saviour. Draco, on the other hand, ducked his head and waited.

Ten minutes or so later, the hat shattered the silence with a "GRYFFINDOR!" and with it, the last remnants of Draco's hopes.

The Gryffindor table started cheering loudly, cries of, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" could be heard even from the opposite end of the hall, which was where the Slytherin table was situated.

The Sorting continued 'til Professor McGonagall reached the end of her list, 'Zabini, Blaise', and Draco was too dejected to continue the game. He clapped half-heartedly when Blaise was sorted into Slytherin and waited for the stool and hat to be taken away.

He looked down at his empty golden plate and though he could still feel the hunger pangs from earlier on, he seemed to have lost his appetite.  _Stupid Potter, messing with my life and he doesn't even know it._

Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster and local balmy crackpot, stood up and welcomed the students to a new year at Hogwarts. Gosh, did he have to be so jolly all the damn time? Couldn't he see that some people were upset with the results of the sorting?

After his speech, Dumbledore sat back down and the feast started.

Food appeared in front of him; just like it did back home and Draco chose whatever suited his fancy. Once his plate was full, he started making meaningless conversation with his friends, taking a bite of food whenever Parkinson went on and on about something silly like her hair.

Draco didn't even notice that there was a ghost next to him ("Um…hello Bloody Baron?" a Seventh Year Prefect greeted hesitantly) until he felt something icy cold brush his shoulders. Draco grimaced. Could things get any worse?

Then dessert arrived and Draco ignored the chilly Baron next to him and dug into the pudding. Even his favourite apple pie tasted unappetizing in his bad mood. He shoved his plate away and opted to lean his head into his folded arms instead. He was starting to get drowsy.

The pudding eventually disappeared, signifying the end of the start-of-term banquet, and Dumbledore once again stepped up. Draco turned a deaf ear to whatever Dumbledore said until he mentioned that the third-floor corridor in the East side was out of bounds. Draco wondered why. His father hadn't said anything about this to him.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and a golden light shot out before twisting into words above the tables.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

Draco picked the tune of one of Celestina Warbeck's latest song and started singing along with the rest of the school. He was one of the last to finish, just before two identical redheads (more Weasleys) ended the song in a slow funeral march.

Clapping ensued after everyone had finished and after a few more words from Dumbledore, they were sent off for bed.

The Slytherin First Years were lead to the dungeons by a Fifth Year Prefect and soon, they were facing a stone wall. The prefect said, " _Draconis_ ," and the stone wall opened to reveal a long passageway that lead down to the common room. Draco was so sleepy that he couldn't even muster a proud comment of how their password was his name.

The Slytherin common room was nice. It was a dungeon-like room with greenish lights and chairs. The light seemed to have a green tinge to it. The walls were lines with dark-wood cupboards and the leather sofas were looking rather inviting to the lethargic Draco. It had tapestries featuring the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins decorating all uncovered walls. Draco noticed Merlin winking before casting a potentially fatal spell in one of them. All in all, it felt like coming home.

The dormitories were below the common room and they (the boys that is, the girls got a different dorm) were lead to a downward spiralling staircase and finally—they found their rooms. Draco and Blaise settled quickly into their new sleeping quarters (there were two four-poster beds inside hung with forest green velvet curtains) and after changing into pyjamas, they fell into bed, each uttering a quick "Goodnight", before the lights flickered off.

Draco tossed and turned in his bed, feeling so tired but too troubled to sleep. The silk sheets were comfortable under his skin but his brain was still whirling, trying to organise all the happenings of today.

Draco's mind apparently had not fully accepted that it wasn't Harry that was sharing a dorm with him until this moment. Draco felt emptier at the thought of not having Harry in his life and he did not know why.  _Okay, I'll give him 'til tomorrow. If he doesn't apologise and beg for forgiveness, then I'm going to make his life at Hogwarts a living hell._

Satisfied with this arrangement, Draco finally fell into a deep slumber.

He did not, however, get a nice dream. Harry was standing there, looking at his outstretched hand, contemplating whether he should take it before turning away, not even acknowledging Draco, before running to the Weasley, the youngest one, who was covered in red paint the colour of his flaming hair, beaming widely at Harry, while shooting Draco a complacent smirk.

Yup, not a nice dream  _at all_.

* * *

**(1) Okay so obviously the Sorting Hat song is not mine.**


	5. Hogwarts and Hufflepuffs

**First Year**

_Chapter 5—Hogwarts and Hufflepuffs_

Draco woke up the next day rather grumpy and decided that he should probably write a letter to his mother or run the risk of getting a Howler yelling at him about his promise. Anyway, letters from his mother always managed to cheer him up. So it really was win-win. His parents had not let him bring his owl—Thuban—this year though, because they thought he shouldn’t waste his time taking care of him when he should be adjusting to school life, so he would have to make the long journey to the Owlery after the letter was done. His parents said that he could bring Thuban next year though so Draco was content with that decision.

Draco casted a Tempus Charm to see what the time was and realised that he had woken up three hours before breakfast even started. Merlin! What was wrong with him? But he couldn’t go back to sleep no matter what he tried and besides, he felt wide awake, thus he took out a fresh piece of parchment from his trunk, along with a quill and ink, and begun his letter.

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_You would be glad to find out that I was Sorted into Slytherin (was there any doubt?). Hogwarts is nice, just like how you had described it. All my friends have been Sorted into Slytherin too and I am currently rooming with Zabini._

_I regret to inform that Harry Potter is not in Slytherin but in Gryffindor and he accepted a Weasley’s friendship over my own. So I do not think he knows a fig about Blood Politics. After all, the Weasleys are probably the worst family to integrate yourself with, even if they make an appearance in the (1) Sacred Twenty-Eight. Which leaves me to wonder. Father, are you certain he was raised in a Wizarding Household?_

_I hope to be able to send more good news in my next letter._

_Love,_

_Your Son and Heir_

_Draco_

Now that the combined formal letter was done, Draco needed to write another, more personal one, to his mother. His mother always gave great advice after all and that was what Draco clearly needed at the moment. The crumpling sound of new parchment could be heard as the Malfoy heir begun his next letter.

_Dear Mother,_

_Please do not show this letter to father._

_I’ve got a problem. Remember that green-eyed boy I mentioned to you earlier in the summer? Turns out he was Harry Potter. And he refused me. I just don’t understand why! I was perfectly friendly and am clearly a better candidate to be his friend rather than that fool Weasley. Surely I’m not below the Weasley, am I?_

_I know that I should just forget about him but I can’t. I still really want his friendship._

_So, I need your advice._

_Love,_

_Your desperate son_

_Draco_

Even after finishing the private letter to his mother, there was still an hour or so before he had to wake Blaise up. Well, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that rot. Draco was going to use this time well.

After placing the letters carefully into his day bag, he opened one of his neatly packed trunk— that held his showering and hair products— and emptied it of its contents. He scooped them up, laid new robes on his bed and grabbed a towel, before entering the bathroom he had chosen. Luckily for him, the bathrooms were not shared. _Ew, how gross would that be?_

Draco took a long time to get ready. But that was because his mirror (annoying thing) kept insisting his platinum hair would look better if he didn’t gel it back. Uh! _I thought mirrors were supposed to give_ good _advice._

Not long after, Draco and Co. could be found eating breakfast in the Great Hall. The breakfast was fine but what really irked Draco was the constant cries of ‘Harry Potter’ that could be heard around the school. Draco _always_ knew when Harry was near, thanks to that convenient warning bell. He was waiting anxiously for Harry to realize he was wrong and come back for his friendship. Draco promised himself that _when_ Harry did (got to stay optimistic!), he would make it hard on him. But Draco knew, in the deepest confines of his heart, that he would accept it immediately. Gosh, when did he get so desperate, hanging on to a forlorn hope?

Deciding to put Potter out of his head (for now anyway), Draco finished up his breakfast before heading for his first class. He checked the schedule that was given to him. History of Magic with Ravenclaws.

History of Magic was uneventful. Very, very uneventful. Taught by Professor Binns, the only ghost teaching a subject, it was a right bore. Draco had to pinch his arm a couple of times to prevent himself from succumbing to sleep. Many Slytherins were snoring though—Draco’s friends included. The Ravenclaws, however, took everything Professor Binns said in stride. None of them were sleeping. How was that _possible_?

Finally, after what seemed like a day and a half later, the lesson ended. _Well_ , Draco thought as he looked at his neat notes, _at least I got most of the things down._

After lunch, was—Draco groaned—Transfiguration with Hufflepuffs.

Professor McGonagall taught Transfiguration and Draco had to admit that she was a good teacher. After taking a bunch of notes about Theory, they went straight to the practical part of Transfiguration. Thanks to Draco’s tutor back home, he was the only one who managed to turn the matchstick into a needle. Professor McGonagall had given him a small smile before picking it up to show to the rest of the class. She then complimented Draco on a job well done before awarding five points to Slytherin. A smug grin could be found on Draco’s face thereafter.

But, before the class ended, a clumsy Hufflepuff tumbled into Draco’s desk, getting ink on his robes. Draco was furious! The Hufflepuff stuttered out a few apologies before scurrying out of the way, preferring not to face Draco’s wrath. Well, too late for that! That Hufflepuff was officially on the Slytherin’s blacklist. Now, if only Draco could remember his name…

Draco’s mood was ruined for the rest of the day thanks to that no good fumbling fool. _Stupid Hufflepuffs._ In Draco’s opinion, Hufflepuff should be booted out of Hogwarts. They didn’t do anything useful except take up space anyway.

Since this was the last class of the day, Draco spent the rest of his time being amused by the many students who tried to find their way around Hogwarts. He could understand some of their confusion, Hogwarts was large after all, but  Draco had already perfected maneuvering around school. With practice, anything was possible. Especially if you were a Malfoy. And Draco was nothing if not a Malfoy.

After a half-hour long session of watching students get caught by Filch, Hogwarts’ disgusting caretaker who owned an equally disgusting cat, Draco remembered that he had letters to send.

Draco made the long journey to the top of the West tower, where the Owlery was located, all the way inwardly cursing his parents for not allowing him to bring Thuban.

Finally, Draco reached the top. He looked around disdainfully. The Owlery was a circular stone room, rather cold and drafty, due to the fact that it was left open to the elements.     None of the windows had glass on them. It was filthy! The floor was entirely covered by straw, owl dropping and what looked suspiciously like small animal carcasses. And the _smell_! Draco almost blanched.

_Okay, in the next letter, I’m so going to request for Thuban to come to Hogwarts._

In a hurry to get out of there, Draco gave his letters to a postal owl, threw it a treat, then sent it off to Malfoy Manor. As an afterthought, Draco shouted, “Remember to give the letters to the intended recipients!”

It was already dinnertime and Harry still hadn’t apologized. Draco knew that he probably wouldn’t, mainly because he was too busy laughing at a joke that the Weasley made.

Draco felt a stab of jealousy and in turn, stabbed his steak with more strength than was required.

“Salazar Draco! What has that steak ever done to you? Got something against cows?” Blaise joked, before noticing Draco’s furious expression and deciding not to rile the already angry dragon, went back to his own conversation. Good thinking.

It was already past curfew and the students were in bed. All were sleeping soundly with the exception of a frustrated grey-eyed boy.

_Fine. Since he wouldn’t be my friend, let’s see how he likes me as an enemy._

_Oh, Potter better watch out._


	6. Potions and Potter

**First Year**

_Chapter 6—Potions and Potter_

Draco's days continued without much interaction with Potter. Unless you counted loud boasting as interaction. Which he didn't. After all, he didn't have lessons with the Gryffindors until Potions on Friday and Draco did not have any legit reason to speak with him outside class. He was a Slytherin though and was patient enough when executing a plan.

Draco's plan? Poke fun at Potter until he concedes defeat.

And in the meantime, Draco would be able to be on the receiving hand of Potter's attention, it didn't matter that it was negative attention and not the positive one which Draco craved.

Classes were…adequate. Since Draco had come to Hogwarts with lots of knowledge about the various subjects already drilled into his head, it was like he was revising. Still, Draco took his notes diligently and listened attentively in class (though his thoughts tended to drift in History for even the most hardworking had to admit—Professor Binns was a snore). He knew what was expected of him as a Malfoy. Be the top of your year, take control of your House and bring down those who dare stand up to you. Playing on Slytherin's Quidditch team and becoming a Prefect would come later, when he actually reached the requirement. However, Draco had absolute confidence that he could accomplish all that.

It should be a breeze.

But there was one subject that Draco really disliked and that was Herbology. Taught by an annoyingly cheerful little witch who looked like she was raised in a bin, it was the one subject that Draco did not excel at.

Why? To put it simply, Draco hated getting dirty. He was fine with exercising and Quidditch, sure, because it was just sweat and it did come from his own body but dirt? No way. After all, who knew what has been crawling in it or what took a dump in it before it made its way into the greenhouse pots?

Draco could recognize the plants and remember what their uses were just fine (most were used in Potions and Draco loved nothing if not Potions) but the part where they had to touch and learn how to take care of it? No thank you. It was at these moments in his life that he wished he could just ask a House-Elf to do it.

Charms class had been fun. He had enjoyed watching the rest of the students fail at attempts to levitate a feather while he easily did it with a Swish and Flick of his wand. Looking at the simpletons who kept scrambling to complete such an easy task, Draco felt contempt. They were not even on the same intellectual level as him. Goes to show that the Purity of Blood makes a difference. Purebloods 1, Mudbloods 0. Oh, and don't forget 10 points for Slytherin from Professor Flitwick, the dwarf Charm teacher.

Draco had not looked forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts, after all, it was taught by the quivering fool Quirrell (and honestly, who wore such a hideously large turban anyway?). Draco was right with his lack of hope, Professor Quirrell was such an idiot! He hadn't taught them a single thing, instead just stood there shaking and shivering whenever a question about Dark Arts (which was his freaking subject!) was brought up. Really, if Draco hadn't already known some Dark Curse and their Counters, he would have reported Quirrell to Father and requested him to get booted out of his teaching position. Draco decided to take advantage of the situation. Since the teacher taught nothing and the students in turn  _learnt_  nothing, wouldn't it be easy to find people who needed tutoring?

He would probably charge a Galleon per lesson or something. No Mudbloods or Blood Traitors allowed though. His friends would be taught for free of course. After all, Slytherins looked after their own. And Draco would like it better if his friends owed him favours so that their ties would go deeper and not just based on his father's influence. Draco wanted  _real_ friends.

His parents haven't sent him a reply to his letters yet though he had a steady flow of treats from home coming in almost daily. He usually made a large affair over opening his packages, sharing them with the other Snakes but always keeping a sizable portion for himself. Draco wanted to send back a thank you note but decided against it, knowing that his mother would know how thankful he was.

Mother knew him well and the reason for the almost endless supply of sweets was due to the fact that she knew how cranky he usually got when he didn't get a good dose of sugar. Draco was eternally grateful to be blessed with Narcissa as a mother. He also appreciated getting to spend some time with Thuban. Oh, Draco had missed him terribly. He had sent another letter to his parents; this time stating reasons why he should be allowed to keep his Eagle owl with him at Hogwarts. He was now anxiously waiting for the replies.

When the day arrived for his first Potion's class (and it was  _double_  potions), Draco had been extremely thrilled and all weariness from the lack of sleep the night before vanished (Astronomy was nice but it really affected Draco's beauty sleep.  _Note to self: Take a nap every Thursday_ ).

The entire Potions lesson (and yes it was his first lesson with Potter as well), his godfather had done his job for him. Severus had humiliated Potter, ridiculed him, and had taken away many points from Gryffindor. Draco had played his part well by sniggering whenever Potter was undermined. It felt good too. For Draco knew that if Potter had just accepted his hand, he would have had an easier time.

Severus had basically criticised the entire class (except him of course) when they were told to brew a simple potions to cure boils. Professor Snape had been complimenting Draco's stewed slugs, but that was before Longbottom had melted another Gryffindor's (Semus? Samus?) cauldron and not before long, their potion was on the ground, acting like acid, burning holes through people's shoes. People near the splash zone were standing on their stool within seconds and the dolt Longbottom was drenched in the potion, limbs breaking out in boils, moaning in pain. The other Gryffindor (Draco finally recalled his name as Seamus) was sent to bring Longbottom to the Infirmary and Potter was once again reprimanded—though this time even Draco could admit the reason for it was unfair.

It was clear by the end of the class that Severus despised Potter and it had nothing to do with him being a Gryffindor.

Okay, maybe that was part of the reason, but Draco was pretty sure it was only a minuscule part. He didn't mean to sound defensive of his godfather but it  _was_ in his right to favour his own House. House pride, right?

Draco might not know why his godfather took such dislike to Potter (even more than he himself and Draco was the one that had been rejected!), but he was sure as hell going to find out.

After all, if there was anything Draco liked more than Potions, it was probably plotting.


	7. Snape and Snakes

**First Year**

_Chapter 7—Snape and Snakes_

Draco was biting into a roll at the Slytherin table when his Eagle owl dropped off his usual package of sweets, along with the long awaited letters from his parents. He tore open his father's letter first, wanting to know if he was allowed to keep Thuban in the Hogwarts' Owlery so he himself did not need to venture up there whenever he needed to send a letter. He felt a little guilty for subjecting his owl to a horrible life in the Owlery but he was a Snake and he had to look out with his best interests at heart, right?

_Dear Draco,_

_I was quite impressed with your argumentative essay on why you should be allowed to keep Thuban with you at Hogwarts (although 'Potter gets to keep his' is not a valid reason) and since you said you've already adjusted to Hogwarts life, I'll take your word for it and allow you to keep Thuban with you. However, do not let him be a distraction for if your grades are less than perfect, this luxury will be revoked._

_Congratulations on getting into Slytherin, your mother and I are proud of you. Hopefully you would take control over your house within a matter of weeks. I look forward to your good news._

_As for Mr. Potter, it really does not matter if you are not his friend. You've already got enough influence to rise up in the ranks of Hogwarts. Include your intelligence and natural Malfoy charisma and you are already on your way to the top. No matter how many glorified stories of Potter your mother fills your head with, remember that he is still beneath you and is therefore not worth your time. Although it would probably be for the best if you do not antagonize him for there are still many fools that exist in this world that worship him and for what? For an act he had performed when he was a baby! The mixture of pure blood with mud blood must be rotting people's brains._

_About your question on Mr. Potter's home life: He was sent (it was authorized by that idiot Albus) to live with his Muggle relatives. 4 Privet Drive in a place called Surrey I believe, but that is not the main point. What is important is that you see that he is clueless on everything to do with the wizarding world. Mentally, he is no better than a Mudblood. Maybe this piece of information would make you feel better. Clearly, Potter has poor judgment. It's obvious if he chose a whimpering Weasley over a Malfoy._

_I hope you are having a good time at Hogwarts._

_Love,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

_Lord of the Malfoy House_

Draco smiled triumphantly and called for Thuban to go to the Owlery. Thuban nodded and flew off, leaving Draco to contemplate the contents of the letter.

Parts of it bore great new, of course, Draco could keep Thuban with him, he now knew why Harry declined his friendship (he also knew where Potter lived, maybe he could send a Howler during the holidays?), and his parents were proud of him. Besides, Draco knew his grades would never fall below absolute perfection. But there was something that bugged him.

His father did not want to exact revenge on Potter? After he had scorned the Malfoy name by choosing a Weasley over Draco? Draco could not accept this.

A Malfoy should never take such obvious disrespect lying down. So, Draco was going to continue making Potter's life terrible. He had already started after all and Malfoys always finishes what they start.

Narcissa had sent him a book with letter and Draco's curiosity was immediately peaked. However, it was pages and pages of  _nothing_!  _Why would mother send me a book full of blank pages?_

As Draco read his mother's letter—advice on how to get Potter (which, in Draco's opinion, arrived a tad bit late)—he understood.  _I'm not a_ girl, Draco thought indignantly,  _I do not need to 'express my feelings in a diary'._

But maybe a journal would be acceptable…

 _Mother must be off her rocker._  For not only had his mother suggest writing letters to Potter—not to be sent, of course—in his newly received book, she had also suggested being  _nice_  to him.  _Been there, done that mother._

Really, did she even read his letter? Draco was certain he had mentioned that he had been friendly, only to receive a figurative slap in the face when Harry decided against befriending him. Besides, it probably will be very,  _very_ hard to change Potter's impression of him. In addition to that, Draco was still mad at Harry.

However, he  _might_ consider the journal idea since he couldn't really express himself to his friends. Not  _yet_ anyway. Draco had an ongoing plan to ensure that his friends would stay true and trustworthy and, well— _real._

It was just a matter of time.

Talking about ongoing plans, Draco has been plotting all night, trying to find a way to get Severus to spill the beans on why he disliked Potter so much, and so suddenly too.

And how convenient! It was a Saturday, which meant no classes, and he had scheduled a tea session with his godfather. He could use this time to squeeze the truth out.

Nothing would be better than solving this mini mystery that had been brought to his attention.  _I bet Potter doesn't have such great adventures…_

But that thought aside, it was teatime!

Draco returned to his dorm to hide his letter and journal before heading to Snape's office.

* * *

Severus Snape was not happy.

He loved his godson (Godric knows why!), but really, if Draco continued yapping about Potter and trying to pry information out of him, Severus was going to wring his neck.

He set down his cup of tea and released a deep sigh. "Draco. I pray please shut up about Potter already."

Draco stopped abruptly, staring at him with a shocked expression on his face.

_Oh, so he really expected me to indulge him did he? I've been way too kind these past few years._

"Severus! Would you just please  _please_ tell me why you despise Potter so much? I understand Potter is very hate-able; I hate him too, but what's your reason specifically?" Severus wasn't going to answer but Draco threw his puppy look at him and the next thing he knew, he was spewing out about Potter Senior and his despicable friends.

Oh Merlin, he had to build up immunity to that infernal pouty face.

Draco was surprised, and a bit mortified, to find out that Snape had been bullied by Harry's father.

_So, the Potter family think they are so high and mighty, too good for a Malfoy huh? I'll show him. I'll bring him down. For Snape as well._

And so Draco continued sipping tea, the fragile teacup hiding the blond's devious smirk, as he made another plan to make Potter look like a fool.


End file.
